Rescue Dog
by Scribblesinink
Summary: While working to keep the club's gun business afloat, Kozik acquires a new lady friend.


**Author notes**: Prequel to my ficlet _Chasing Tail_. Thanks to Tanaqui for betaing.

**_Rescue Dog_**

**_By Scribblesinink_**

"What the blazes is _that_?" Filthy Phil's voice cracked. An unearthly howl rising up in response to the volley he'd just fired had drowned out the echoes of the gunshots as they faded into the night.

"Werewolf?" Miles tittered, gaze shifting nervously from shadow to shadow.

"It's just a dog, you fools." Kozik had recognized the sound for what it was right off the bat. He cocked his head to pinpoint where the howl had come from, though it had died down to no more than a pitiful whimper. Had they disturbed—or worse, shot—some dog walker? But who'd be dumb enough to walk their dog in the woods just outside Charming after midnight? The expectation of _not_ being interrupted was why he'd brought the prospects out here for some night-time target practice at the same time as testing the new shipment of guns that had come in. All part of his promise to Clay to keep the gun business running while the president and half his club did their fourteen months in Stockton.

Finally deciding on a direction, he started to make his way toward where he thought the howl had originated. He glared across his shoulder at the prospects, who were treading closely on his heels, before carefully skirting the charred remains of the Bluebird warehouse and the targets they'd set up.

"Fuck." He cursed softly when he found the culprit. A half-grown German Shepherd bitch was tied to a trunk in the tree line behind the ruins. Skinny enough he could count her ribs under her matted coat, she cringed away from him, crouching down, as he approached. "Hey, girl." He kept his voice low and soft as he inched his way forward, ready to jump back if she snapped at him. "Whatcha doin' out here, huh?"

Behind him, someone uttered a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snigger. _Miles_, he thought, but he ignored the prospect, concentrating on keeping his eye on the dog. She was quivering when he reached to scratch her behind the ears, but she didn't back away and she didn't try to bite him either. Gradually, she relaxed under his fingers, until she was gazing up at him hopefully, whining softly. "Hungry, huh?" Kozik patted his pockets, but only found a Snickers bar—not something he could feed a dog.

"Here." Phil offered him a half-eaten slice of toast. Kozik shot the prospect a look, but decided it was better not to ask. Guy had gotten his nickname somehow, after all.

Instead, he accepted the piece of toast and presented it to the dog. She gobbled it up in two large bites, before licking his hands and whining softly again, as if begging for more. "Fuck," he swore again. What was he supposed to do now? From the way she'd churned up the ground around her, he guessed she'd been here for a while, and it was pretty obvious she'd been abandoned.

Cursing under his breath for a third time, he pulled his knife from its sheath and started sawing through the rope. Didn't have much choice, did he? He knew he couldn't bring himself to simply leave her here to die of thirst or starvation.

Finally done with the rope, Kozik grabbed hold of the tattered end, pretending not to notice how the dog's tail whipped back and forth energetically as she followed him back through the forest. Cuffing Miles around the head with his free hand—payback for that little snicker—he growled, "Get the guns. We're done here."

Good thing they'd brought the van, he thought, as he urged the dog to hop into the back. For tonight, he'd find some old blanket and put her up in the clubhouse. He'd worry about the rest tomorrow.

**Disclaimer**: this story is a transformative work based on the Fox 21/FX Productions/Linson Entertainment/Sutter Ink television series _Sons of Anarchy_. It was written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from it nor was any infringement of copyright intended. Please do not redistribute elsewhere without the author's consent.


End file.
